


Collide

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Desperate to reform his pure-blood supremacist parents and escape their financial hold, Draco approaches Hermione with a proposition.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione slammed her file folder onto her desk. “Bastards,” she muttered crossing her arms over her chest. With her robes trailing behind her, she paced her cramped office as stacks of paper teetered dangerously threatening to fall to the floor. Her presentation was flawless. She triple checked every data point and carefully weighed every expert opinion. The financial forecasting was meticulous. If she could just convince them to consider the possibilities and not be so narrow minded. She had to convince them. Mentally listing which members of Wizengamot might be sympathetic to her cause she barely heard the polite cough of a stranger at her door. 

Her brow furrowed in frustration when she realized the stranger was actually Draco Malfoy. Dressed in a jet-black suit, he wore his platinum hair closely cropped with elegant locks artfully pushed back from his head. She watched as he stepped into her cramped office and closed the door with a flick of his wrist. He practically shuddered while scanning the tiny room noting the cramped conditions. “Hermione Granger, Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, shocking,” he mocked. 

She stood up straight adding a few centimeters to her petite frame, “What is it Malfoy?” the exasperation evident in her voice. His presence was unwelcomed and her mind began to reel wondering what could prompt him to pay her a visit that was no doubt personal considering Draco Malfoy was not employed. 

“I have a proposition for you,” Draco said eyeing a picture of Hermione and Harry on a narrow shelf in the corner of her office. “It seems despite harboring Voldemort in our home for the better part of a year and upending our lives, my parents are intent on finding me a suitable fiancé,” he continued, finally turning to face her. He adjusted the cuff off his suit as nausea roiled in Hermione’s stomach. It was as if they were discussing plans to meet at the pub instead of the nightmare that was the Dark Lord's reign. One they both desperately tried to forget. “My parents are so determined they have made it a condition of my trust fund. I won’t see a galleon until I am engaged,” he explained. 

“Malfoy, I have quite a bit of work,” Hermione said unsympathetically. He towered over her but she stepped towards him in hopes of ushering him to the door and hastening his departure. 

“The manor has become an endless parade of pure-blood witches and yet I want you to be my bride,” Malfoy said pinning her with a cold gray stare. 

Alarm coursed through Hermione’s veins as an icy panic stole the breath from her lungs. Desperately trying to piece together the trap Draco had undoubtedly set for her she struggled to make sense of his statement. She took a step backwards wincing as her hip connected painfully with her desk sending her files cascading to the floor. “You can’t be serious,” she said. 

“Of course I am not serious you swot,” he answered. “How is your unicorn proposal coming along? Made any inroads yet with the Minister of Magic?” he questioned. Flustered she snatched her papers off the floor forgetting she could easily return them to her desk with a simple spell. “I don’t see how that is any of your business,” she replied. 

“Did you ever secure funding to expand the centaurs reservation or launch the troll healthcare program?” Draco pressed listing initiatives Hermione meticulously researched only to be rejected. It was as if the existence of her department was simply to pacify the wizarding community, yet she was determined to make a difference. First in her class, a member of the golden trio and a Gryffindor, the equal treatment of magical creatures had been her passion and she refused to quit because it was hard. She was certainly not going to make lasting change squabbling with Malfoy about his ridiculous familial problems. She was about to demand he leave when he interjected, “What if you had the support of the Wizengamot? What if you didn’t need to grovel for galleons?” placing his hands on her desk. He leaned forward and she realized he was actually waiting for her to answer. She clutched the papers to her chest defensively, “What are you on about?” she demanded. 

“The rumors barely scratch the surface. My family is incredibly wealthy with enough witches and wizards in their pocket to stage a coup. Not that we ever would, Salazar, we revel far too much in playing puppet master,” he said. His gaze settled purposefully on the list of rejected proposals stacked on her desk. “What I am suggesting is an engagement that would suit both our goals,” he said. She gripped the papers tighter before realizing she was crinkling them. 

With a deep breath, she placed them on her desk. It was clear he was serious yet she proceeded cautiously. “And what is your goal? You can’t expect me to believe you concocted this ruse as some delayed manifestation of teenage rebellion,” she rebuked. 

The fervor in his voice evaporated and his cool expression returned. “I assure you it is not,” he answered. “Then what?” Hermione asked sorting through the stacks of papers on her desk desperate to keep her hands busy as she unpacked what he was proposing. 

“I will not be controlled. My father sided with the Dark Lord and nearly got my mother and I killed. We were almost sent to Azkaban. Surely you remember?” he said with a sarcastic drawl. Hermione’s eyes snapped to his, of course she remembered. The Malfoy trial had been the last time she had seen Draco. Without her testimonial he would have surely been sentenced to Azkaban. It was the first real quarrel she had with Ron, one of many that marked their failed relationship. She lost not only her best friend but also her surrogate family. Unable to recover her parents’ memories, Harry was the only family she had left. The months after her break-up were marked with loneliness so profound she felt she was sinking. She realized she was staring at Malfoy blinking at him stupidly. “You know I do. Don’t be cute,” she finally responded. 

Draco eyed her carefully as the silence stretched on before she continued desperate to change the subject, “I don’t see how embarrassing your parents will engender them to give you access to your fortune,” Draco turned away from her and strolled to a file cabinet. He leaned against it casually. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Publicly my parents will be forced to accept you while I negotiate their ridiculous terms,” he explained. 

“How are you sure I won’t owl The Daily Prophet as soon as you leave?” she questioned continuing to point out the flaws in his plan. He shrugged his shoulders, “Who would believe you? Any reporter worth their salt would assume you were still sore about our petty childhood squabbles,” he rationalized. 

“Petty childhood squabbles? You tormented me! You told me I was inferior because of my blood! I was fourteen!” she shouted grateful he had distanced himself lest she decide to slap him. 

He braced himself as if he expected her outburst. “I don’t doubt at the time it caused you pain however we are both aware that was not torture,” he responded casually seeking out the corners of her office refusing to meet her gaze. Hermione recognized the non-apology and sighed fighting the uncomfortable prickling sensation of her scar. 

Narcissa and Lucius clearly still held their pure-blood dogma yet as maddening as Draco could be she had no doubt he did not share their beliefs. He was offering her the opportunity to create a legacy of public policy and champion the union of pure-blood and muggle-born witches and wizards. If he wasn’t concerned with gossipmongers why should she be? It wasn’t as if she had very many suitors, in her fact her social circle was quite small. His proposal was worth considering, if only as an exercise to determine whether pure-blood supremacy was still rampant in the ministry. 

“I won’t marry you,” Hermione asserted. Draco rolled his eyes and the expression was so distinctly second year Malfoy Hermione pressed her lips together to keep from smirking. 

“Granger, I have no intention of marrying you,” he said as if she were daft. He stalked back towards her. “I am not saying yes,” she insisted finally taking control of the conversation. 

“It doesn’t sound like you are saying no,” Draco prodded as he masked his disbelief. He expected Hermione to throw him out of her office before he could even suggest the ploy. He had been struggling to appear indifferent when in reality Hermione was the only muggle-born witch who he would even entertain the thought of involving. He had been prepared to cut ties with his parents, but in a last ditch effort to drag them into the 21st century he needed her help. Her lack of outright refusal shocked him and was evidence of the farce that was the now reformed ministry. 

“I will have terms,” Hermione stated interrupting his thoughts. 

“I would expect nothing less. Owl me later?” he questioned suddenly desperate to escape her embarrassingly small office. 

“Okay,” Hermione agreed before she watched him leave. She stood in her office flabbergasted never expecting hope to take the form of Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco walked into the pub still bristling at the memory of Lucius berating him this morning. Lucius criticized Draco every minute he was home, which was why Draco spent most of his time with Theo Nott Jr., subjecting himself to Theo’s incessant requests to come work for him. Draco’s assurances that he was independently wealthy fell on deaf ears and he cursed himself for unburdening himself months ago to his former classmate.

Eager to discuss the terms of their arrangement, Draco scanned the dim pub searching for a table. He ordered two drinks and then casted a Muffliato charm before relaxing in the booth. Muggle pubs offered him anonymity and it was worth the inconvenience of carrying their strange currency. Minutes later Hermione entered dressed in a simple black blouse loosely tucked into high-waisted maroon trousers with heels. It was nine o’clock on a Friday, yet she came directly from the ministry. “Malfoy,” she greeted sliding into the booth warily eyeing his two drinks.

“I ordered you a whiskey but if you prefer something else just let me know,” he said placing the glass in front of her.

She reached for it and said, “Whiskey’s fine. Cheers,” before bringing it to her lips.

“Busy day at the ministry?” Draco asked. He was trying to bait her, but found himself curious what kept her working well past the hour any sane person would and so busy she couldn’t meet for two full weeks.

“Something like that. The Quidditch World Cup rolls around and suddenly it’s all hands on deck,” she answered sullenly. Her tongue darted between her mouth wetting her lips before taking another sip.

“You would think they would have that down by now, yeah?” Draco goaded.

“Thank you! Everyone acts like it is a bloody surprise!” she shouted.

She closed her eyes and started to massage her temples. “We don’t have to do this today,” Draco remarked before he realized what he was saying. He was irritated they couldn’t meet sooner, yet here he was offering to push it off again. She opened her eyes and waved away his comment. “No, no. It is fine,” she said taking another tiny sip of her drink.

“Right. So what are your terms then?” Draco asked wishing he had thought to consume two or three drinks before their conversation.

“As a show of good faith, you will help me secure the funding I need to expand the centaur reservation before we become publicly betrothed,” she said staring at him with a serious expression.

Draco set his glass down and scoffed. “Granger, these things don’t just happen overnight. Did I not mention I currently do not have access to my trust fund?” he said enunciating every word lest she suddenly lost her ability to hear. She pushed the glass away and folded her hands on the table. “Unacceptable. I have no doubt you can manage the sum and you need to demonstrate you can deliver otherwise you’re wasting my time,” she chided. She scanned the pub as if preparing to leave.

Draco drained his glass before gesturing to the bartender. The silence stretched on as the bartender dropped off two fresh drinks. “These are both for me,” he clarified arranging them in front of him. After a few seconds he relented, “I will call Gringotts tomorrow,” picking up the threads of their conversation. Hermione suppressed an excited squeal and instead raised her drink and took a celebratory sip. She had been working on the centaur reservation expansion for months. She wondered whether she should return to her office and review her plans. “I have conditions of my own. We are here to negotiate are we not?” Draco smoothly questioned interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Of course,” she conceded. She clenched her jaw waiting for his no doubt shallow demand, most likely something petty as retaliation for forcing him to show good will before they publicly announced their relationship. “Nobody can know about our arrangement, especially Harry. He is far too inquisitive and I would prefer he remain ignorant of my personal affairs. I assume you haven’t run off to The Daily Prophet considering my name hasn’t appeared in any scathing exposes?” he said accusatorily.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “You know I haven’t but fine, nobody including Harry will know the details of our arrangement,” she said. His condition was more than fair and from their time at Hogwarts she knew how quickly secrets could become public knowledge. Uncertainty prickled at Draco’s spine, “You do understand we will both be disgraced if you can’t pull this off,” he hissed leaning across the table.

Her previous elation was receding, irritation quickly takings its place. “I testified at your trial and considering how much time I spent bickering with Ron you shouldn’t worry. As long as you can manage some semblance of affection I don’t anticipate any issues. I am more preoccupied with not marrying you. Exactly how do you expect us to break it off and remain unscathed?” she shot back picking up one of the drinks he had claimed as his own and taking a sip.

“Breaking off an engagement isn’t entirely unheard of in the wizarding community. We could cite irreconcilable differences,” he begrudgingly supplied grateful she was considering every aspect of this ruse including their exit strategy.

Hermione contemplated his answer furrowing her brow as she mulled over his statement. “That could work. Perhaps the pressure of pure-blood society becomes too much and I break it off?” she suggested.

Draco’s composure faltered. “What? Are you daft? No. Absolutely not,” he countered.

“It is a reasonable explanation,” Hermione continued defensively.

He leaned forward again, “Except it isn’t. Hermione Granger would never cede to the pressure of pure-blood society. We will think of something else, something like children or living arrangements,” he railed absolutely beside himself with her foolishness.

“Was there anything else?” Draco asked eager to finish this conversation.

Hermione cradled the glass between her hands. “Yes. I expect your parents will be unhappy, however I won’t tolerate overt comments regarding my blood status. Contrary to what you think, I can exhibit some sense of decorum, but I will defend myself if necessary,” she said rushing through the words anxiety radiating from her.

Draco clenched his jaw and considered her final condition. Despite his parents’ obsession with propriety, they would undoubtedly comment on her “dirty blood” and the full realization of what he was doing struck him. If his parents could not accept his future wife was muggle-born, then in his eyes they were irredeemable. He would lose his fortune, but be free from their prejudice and accountable for his actions alone. It wouldn’t suit to have his fiancé antagonizing his parents, but he couldn’t ask Hermione to stand for their reprehensible behavior although he knew she would. She would struggle, but ultimately swallow her pride and accept their bigotry for the good of all the magical creatures she so desperately wanted to save.

He chose his words carefully. “My parents will without question find some way to offend you, however if their comments begin to reflect their intolerance, I prefer you let me deal with it. As my betrothed, it would look ungentlemanly if I did not intervene. Do you understand?” he asked.

Hermione eyed him thoughtfully, “I do,” she answered.

“It’s settled then. You can expect the funds at the ministry within two days,” he said reaching into his pocket. He flipped through the bills and dropped two onto the table. “I will owl you,” he said. She gripped her drink as she watched him leave and for the very first time thought she may have underestimated him.


End file.
